Open / Second Chance of a Shotgun Mar 24, 2009 8:40:34 GMT -6
Post by .~.T.e.a.k.~. on Mar 24, 2009 8:40:34 GMT -6
Travis paced around the small ring nervously, popping his knuckles every few minutes. His horse, his rescue horse… was due to arrive any minute and he was nervous as h*ll. All he knew about the horse ‘Shots in the Dark’ was that he was a stocky grey 16 hand Mustang/x/Australian Stockhorse stallion who appeared to ‘suffer from depression’ and was withdrawn from people and didn’t enjoy life anymore. Travis had felt connected to the horse the moment he’d seen the photo on Amy’s laptop and he’d been angered to find that another person had originally wanted the stallion, then had felt relief when that person had backed out. Yes, he was very glad that he’d gotten the horse… he was certain that he could help the equine, and, likewise, perhaps the horse could help him.
He leaned against the rails of the ring and stared down the stable drive, wanting to see the trailer that would be bringing his horse, and, at the same time, dreading it for he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out just how withdrawn the horse was.
The vet technician wore a pair of older, well worn and faded jeans and a light brown button down t-shirt. His boots were faded and the leather was cracking in places, and a belt held the jeans on his hips. Surprisingly, an old, frayed baseball cap sat atop his head, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun and holding his longer dark hair out of his face.
Dark brown eyes glanced at the watch on his wrist and he cursed under his breath upon realizing that the person transporting his horse was nearly ten minutes late. No wonder he was a wreck… His habit of expecting the worse rose and he found himself wondering if there could have been a wreck or other problem… maybe the horse had grown ill… or a flat tire… Don’t… just don’t. He told himself mentally, stopping his train of thought and looking around, feeling a bit foolish for thinking the worse.
The twenty-two year old man sighed and tried to relax, but it was hard… he was, he admitted, looking forwards to getting this horse… Shot, as he was called. He was keyed up, Travis knew… wired, like a spring loaded shotgun. His eyes were bright with anticipation and there was a slight spring to his step that could be seen through his nervous exterior.